


Adam

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ficlet, Halloween, Intoxication, M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Celebrimbor begrudgingly attends a costume party.





	Adam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurawolfgirl2000](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aurawolfgirl2000).



> A/N: Fill for aurawolfgirl2000’s “Celegorm/Celebrimbor with #11 [Halloween], maybe a little smutty” request on [my tumblr prompt list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/179060905990/prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Silmarillion or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s late to the party. He really tried not to be—he promised he would come, even went out and bought a costume, but the necklace he completed just before arrival was too beautiful to wait—he just _had_ to finish. He thinks his father will understand when his grandfather next visits the forge—he’ll surely give the sort of genuine praise that almost no one else ever hears from him. Celebrimbor is serious about his craft, and that comes before silly holiday festivities.

He does still value his family. And some of them value appearances above their work. So he still hurries up the steps and knocks on the tall oak door, only to have it squeak open on its own, unlocked. Flickering red and white lights spill out into the darkness outside, blearing techno music with it. The thumping only grows louder as Celebrimbor slips inside. The hallway’s full of costumed bodies he can’t recognize, but he doesn’t stay long enough to try and discern any faces. He just has to be seen by a select few, and then he can get back to something that actually matters.

As he weaves through the scattered throngs squeezed into his family’s manor house, some of his guilt’s alleviated. He did feel a tad bad about waiting so long to buy an outfit, and even then picking the cheapest thing they had—some sad semblance of a cat ear headband and a clip on tail. The rest is just his own black pants and turtleneck, along with some whiskers on his cheeks and his nose filled in with black marker. It’s way under the creative standards he holds his own work to, but at least most of the costumes around him aren’t much better. He even passes two other cats on his way to the living room, and he’s probably the best of the three. 

He finds his father by the large fireplace, leaning against the brick with a plastic cup in hand. His vampire outfit clearly came custom made, and the fangs he smiles with almost look real. He grins lazily when he spots Celebrimbor headed to him, calling over the din, “Ah, you made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Celebrimbor lies, having to stand closer than he’d like just to be heard and to avoid being jostled by the surrounding ‘dancers’. Too many people are crammed onto their couches, and most of the people standing are either swaying or drunkenly writhing to the beat. Celebrimbor makes a mental note not to trust _any_ of the drinks here. 

“Well,” his father says, as though Celebrimbor was expected to do anything more than just attend. “Get mingling. Have fun.” A gesture of his father’s hand, and Celebrimbor’s instantly jumping on the dismissal, melting back into the crowd. He just wishes he knew how long he has to stay before he can politely leave.

There’s no one he really wants to mingle with on the first floor—it seems like mostly strangers, and intoxicated, badly dressed ones at that. Mainly to get away from the stifling heat of too many bodies and the flashing lights in most of the rooms, Celebrimbor chooses to detour up the stairs. He’s long since moved out of his old room, but he might be able to barricade himself up in his father’s until the worst of it is over. There are still a few people splattered about the stairs, but they pitter off the more hallways he turns down. Finally, he’s all alone, and he can breathe.

He doesn’t have long to enjoy it—when he reaches his father’s bedroom, the door opens before he can touch the handle. 

His very favourite uncle steps out, only to spot Celebrimbor and halt in the doorway. Celebrimbor opens his mouth but doesn’t manage to say any greeting. 

Celegorm’s always been gorgeous. He’s easily the most handsome elf that Celebrimbor’s ever known or even seen, and he seems to know it—he carries himself with that sort of sensual confidence that could make anyone’s knees weak. He doesn’t exactly reek of alcohol, but his spicy cologne is tinted with something else tonight, something heady and alluring. His long blond hair is brushed back over his shoulders, showing off his broad shoulders and the taut expanse of his chiseled chest. He’s wearing hardly any clothing—just a small pair of green briefs and many crisscrossing lines of ivy-like leaves draped all over his body. Celebrimbor’s gaze dips far too low as he examines the intricate pattern, only for Celegorm to draw his attention back up with a warm, “Good evening, Tyelpe.” 

Blushing hot, Celebrimbor answers, “’Evening.” 

A languid smirk stretches across Celegorm’s sculpted lips. His dazzling eyes are a little more dilated than usual, and there’s a pink flush across his cheeks and nose, right to the pointed tips of his ears. It makes Celebrimbor wonder if he’s a little tipsy, though his words are mostly steady as he purrs, “What a cute kitty you make.”

Celebrimbor’s chest clenches. Somehow, he manages to answer, “Th... thanks. It was the cheapest thing left in stock...” Celegorm laughs, rich and hearty, which does things to Celebrimbor’s body. It almost always does. Celebrimbor continues, “Um... sorry, but what are you...?”

“Steve,” Celegorm answer, simple and easy, even though that means nothing to Celebrimbor.

“Who?”

“Steve. The man who seduced Adam away from Eve... according to Men, anyway.” Celegorm even winks, and it momentarily fogs over Celebrimbor’s brain. He thinks he has a vague idea what legend Celegorm means. If he’d known the main characters were so devastatingly attractive, he might’ve paid more attention. Celegorm follows up: “Do you like it?”

Celebrimbor swallows around the lump in his throat. He has no choice but to answer, “Yes.”

Celegorm chuckles, “Good kitty.” Then he takes a step forward and smoothly presses a kiss to Celebrimbor’s cheek that makes his entire body _burn_. He wants to pull Celegorm back into his father’s bedroom, make a mess on the bed, and earn more of that praise. 

But that’d be horribly inappropriate, of course, and Celegorm’s probably drunk, and already leaving. He brushes past Celebrimbor, hips swaying with every step, looking just as good going as he did coming. Celebrimbor’s left standing there, trying to fan himself off, and wondering if he should maybe get the hell out of the house sooner rather than later.


End file.
